


Not Moving

by Dlvvanzor, Living_In_a_Fantasy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Porn, Sexual Experimentation, delayed gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dlvvanzor/pseuds/Dlvvanzor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_In_a_Fantasy/pseuds/Living_In_a_Fantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wants his lover's attention, and Sherlock intends to make him work for it.  At least, until John makes an offer to try something new- anything Sherlock wants- and Sherlock can't pass up the opportunity to explain how he really sort of extremely badly wants to press into John and then simply... not move.  For an hour.  It doesn't sound quite as entertaining to John, but he's willing to try anything once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Moving

They were lounging on the sofa. It wasn't terribly late, but it was dark. The flat had grown dim, as Sherlock had complained loudly about not wanting to stand to turn on lights and out of principle, John had refused to. So now the flat was dark, save for the obnoxiously bright light of the laptop Sherlock was currently on. Had been on, all day. And John wanted him off it. So, John was now cuddling close to Sherlock, kissing his jaw, and planning _how_ to get Sherlock to turn the damn thing off.

 Sherlock was perfectly aware of why John was kissing his jaw but chose to ignore it.  Externally.

 John pressed several more light kisses there before speaking. "Sherlock?"

 "Mhm?" he asked, continuing to type.  The chemical equations he was typing were now nonsense, but he knew John couldn't tell.

 "You've been on your laptop all day."

 "Mhmmm."

 He slipped his arm around Sherlock's, tugging lightly. "Come pay attention to me."

 Just to be difficult, Sherlock hummed a negative.

 John frowned against Sherlock's skin, because he knew Sherlock hated when he did that. "Why not?"

 Sherlock wriggled away from the frowning against his skin.  "Stopit."

 He tugged more insistently. "Pay attention to me."

 He came back.  "Busy," he lied.  He wasn't typing anymore, a fact he hoped John would notice.  He was entirely open to being seduced at the moment.

 John kissed the corner of his lips lightly. "You've been busy all day," he complained.

 "So busy," he added.

 "I miss you."

 Sherlock softened, turned his head just a bit, and caught John full on the lips, delivering a fast but intense kiss, then returned to his laptop, smirking.

 Well, he certainly wasn't giving up after _that_. He scooted closer, wrapping all up around Sherlock and doing his best to get in Sherlock's way. "Come spend time with me. I'm sure it will be more interesting."

 He tried to make a skeptical noise.

 He kissed slowly along Sherlock's jaw. "I promise."

 Sherlock resumed typing for a few seconds and brought up a YouTube video about bees.

 John settled his head on Sherlock's shoulder unhappily. "You don't want me anymore."

 "Perhaps I just need convincing," he pointed out.

 "Nope. My normal lovemaking isn't enough for you anymore," he sighed sadly.

 He knew he was teasing, but he still grabbed John's hand and squeezed.  Then he put it back and kept watching his bee video.

 "What can I do to be a better lover for you?" he asked.

 Sherlock rolled his eyes.

 "I'm serious," he said, shifting up to look at him properly. "I'm obviously boring you now. So what should we change? Is there any particular kink you've not been telling me about?"

 He frowned, looked at John, put his laptop down.  "You're not boring me.  I was teasing you."

 "Do you want to tie me up?" he asked, ignoring him. "You know I get off on you being dominant and you seem to as well, so is it something like that?"

 "Tying you up seems a bit counterproductive, don't you think?"

 "Well, what is it then?"

 He gazed at him, thinking.  "Nothing," he said, not sounding certain.

 "Obviously there's something."

 Sherlock chewed on his lip for a bit, an unusual tick for him but not unheard of.  "It's fine."

 Ah, so there was something. "Tell me."

 He leaned forward, kissed him.  He smiled.  "It's fine."

 "No, it's not. I want to know."

 "I'm just not sure how it would feel for you," he tried to say casually, shrugging a little.  "So, it's not important."

 "Sherlock. I do have the option of saying no. So tell me."

 "Um."  He shifted.  "I'd like to, if you're agreeable..."  He shifted again.

 "Yes?"

 "I'd like to penetrate you," he managed to say without hesitating.  "And then just.  Stay there."  He looked elsewhere.

 "For how long?" he asked after several seconds of silence.

 He cleared his throat.  "Dunno.  Until one of us couldn't stand it."

 John nodded. "Alright."

 Sherlock looked back at him quickly.  "What?"

 "Alright, sure. Let's do it."

 "Really?"

 "Yes."

 "Why?"

 "Why not?"

 "Does it sound... interesting to you?"

 "Yes, Sherlock, it sounds perfectly interesting."

 Sherlock eyed him suspiciously.

 John tugged him in for a kiss.

 Sherlock let himself get lost in it for a bit before he clamored to his feet and pulled John with him.  "It won't work on the sofa," he said, a bit breathless.

 John followed obediently, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and continuing to kiss him, making it difficult to make it very far from the sofa.

 He dragged them both back, staggering and stumbling, towards their bedroom, stunned but ecstatic.  "Really?" he asked again as he closed their door with his foot, mouthing along John's neck.

 "Mhm." His fingers started in on Sherlock's buttons.

 "Well, then, if you're sure," he lowered his voice and exerted enough force to send John onto his back on their bed without hurting him.

 John fell back against the bed, gazing up at Sherlock. He gestured for Sherlock to join him.

 Sherlock did, crawling over him and pinning him.  "The good news is," he said in his lowest voice, right into John's ear, "that this and your particular fondness for being dominated are not mutually exclusive."

 "Oh, really?" he asked, breath hitching just slightly.

 "Mhm," he drawled, running his tongue lightly up John's neck while undoing the buttons of his shirt with nimble fingers.  "I'll enter you, be in you, and refuse to move until I want to.  Could be a long time, John, could be an hour or more.  But no matter how much you beg, I won't move until I want to."  He lowered his teeth to John's now-exposed collarbone.

 John gave a low moan of approval. "No matter how much I beg? Really?"

 He reached down and lightly brushed the bulge that was rapidly growing in John's trousers.  "Get these off," he ordered.  "All of it."

 John surged up to kiss Sherlock, breaking away only to kick off his trousers and pants before pulling Sherlock back in again.

 Sherlock pushed him away.  "Socks."   He took all his own clothes off quickly as well.  John groaned in frustration, ripping them off before seeking Sherlock's lips again.

 He pushed him away again.  "Watch."

 "Are you serious?" he asked, even as his hand fumbled to get it off.

 Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

 He got it off, dropping it noisily and again pulling Sherlock in for a kiss, hoping he'd actually let him this time.

 Sherlock pushed him off again.

 "What? What could it possibly be this time?"

 "Nothing," Sherlock silked, twisting his fingers in John's hair.  "I just like the face you make when I don't let you have what you want."  He finally kissed him and it was hard and sloppy, just the way he knew John wanted.

 John pushed up, wanting to feel Sherlock absolutely everywhere. "Tease."

 "You think this is teasing," he chuckled, low, "just wait until I've been inside you for an hour without moving."

 John groaned, his hips thrusting up to gain some sort of friction.

 "Oh, I think you'll regret that moment in a bit," Sherlock observed, kissing down John's chest and all the way to his abdomen before kissing over to his side and back up that way.

 "I've wanted you for hours," he said, reaching for Sherlock, wanting to kiss him. Wanting to never stop kissing him.

 Sherlock came up so that he could do so, then presented John with his fingers instead of his lips.

 John took them in his mouth, tongue exploring them slowly and dutifully.

 Sherlock hummed.  "Good," he praised.

 John's tongue flickered over Sherlock's fingers, eyes locked on the other man's. How was it possible to want someone so much?   Sherlock shuddered at the deliberate motion and, deciding it was sufficient, removed his fingers from John's mouth.  "If you want lubricant other than this, this is your opportunity," he said.

 "Are you asking for me to wrap my lips around your cock?" he asked.

 Sherlock blinked.  He hadn't been but that sounded like a good idea.  But no, he might lose control then and pass up on this opportunity.  "No," he said.  "You may not.  And time's up."  He worked his way down John's body, avoiding his cock completely, to ease a finger into John.  He went more carefully than usual because there was only spit between his finger and John.

 John spread his legs slightly to make it easier. "I'm fine, keep going."

 Sherlock slowed down.

 John groaned. "Sherlock, come on. You've not even got your cock in me yet."

 "You don't get a say in any of it," he said simply.  " _Now_ I will speed up, because now is when I choose to."  He worked in another finger.  John gave a lower, pleased groan at that, more from the words than anything else.

 Not wasting much more time but being of course thorough enough not to hurt this beloved man, Sherlock finished up the preparations.

John simply waited, knowing better than to ask for Sherlock to get on with it, staring up at him.

 "On your side," Sherlock said simply.

 John obeyed wordlessly.

 "We'll be here a while," he explained, maneuvering John's top leg.  "So it would be better for us to be comfortable.  I can't hold myself over you indefinitely."

 "Ah, course not," John said, letting Sherlock move him about as he pleased.

 When the arrangement was ideal, Sherlock checked to make sure there was nothing touching John's cock.  He spat on his hand and slicked himself up.  Then, finally, he pressed into John, agonizingly slowly.  When he was all the way in, he stopped.  John pressed back against Sherlock, seeking more of him, loving the feeling, as always, of having Sherlock inside him.

 Sherlock allowed him to press his back into his front.  He wrapped his arms around John, got them close, made them comfortable.  Then he buried his face in John's hair and sighed into it.  "You feel good," he said softly, placing a kiss on his head.  "Against me and around me, both."

 John hummed in response, not wanting to speak because he knew he'd not be able to stop himself from asking Sherlock to move.

 "I love you," he said, feeling cuddly now.  He'd not expected this to be something John would agree to.

 "Love you too," John managed.

 It was very, very strange, not moving.  He wanted to, but at the same time, being this close to John was amazing, and if he didn't move he didn't feel the urge to move more.  Outside of occasional, very intense spikes of instinct to thrust, it was pleasant and close and good.

 There was something nice about it. He was always trying to get closer to Sherlock. Now, with Sherlock inside him and holding him close, their bodies touching everywhere, they really couldn't get any closer.

 Sherlock nuzzled the back of John's neck.

 John smiled at the action.  He hoped Sherlock hadn't really meant an hour.

 "I did."

 "An actual hour? Like, 60 minutes?"

 "Mhm."

 "Might get uncomfortable after a while, don't you think?"

 Sherlock gave an unconcerned hum.

 "It could."

 "If I decide it does, I may modify it from an hour.  But at the moment."  He gave a tiny additional press in.

 John's hand clenched at the blankets at the small movement, biting his lip. Slow breath out. Staying still for Sherlock. This was what Sherlock wanted.

 Sherlock settled his nose in next to John's ear.  "Thank you," he said softly.

 He hummed.

 He stayed still for about seven minutes.

 It was nice, for a while. John could admit that it was nice to have Sherlock that close, and holding him close. But, there had also been some excellent foreplay before this point, and his body was very insistent that he remembered that.

 "Actually close enough," Sherlock observed at a whisper.  His entire body was demanding he move, confused about why he wasn't.  He didn't, though, and stayed incredibly still.

 It was true. "Yes," he agreed, trying to focus on that feeling, instead of how much he needed Sherlock to move.

 "I know you're tense," he said reverently, "I can feel every twitch of your body, every breath you take.  It's amazing."  He kissed John's neck.  "You're amazing."

 John let out another slow breath. "You are too." He placed his hand over Sherlock's and squeezed.

 "Relax."  He nuzzled where he had kissed.  "Just be close to me."

 He tried, giving a small nod. "Okay."

 "We'll do this properly, in a while," Sherlock promised.  "I won't run off.  Just trust me and relax and be here."

 "I am here," he reassured him.

 "What does it feel like?"

 "Feels like you're everywhere."

 "Does it hurt?  Or can you not feel me there anymore?"

 "Doesn't hurt. Can still feel you."

 Sherlock hummed and nestled his face in closer.

 John focused on just feeling Sherlock behind him, all around him. Focused on Sherlock's arms holding him close. Focused on just _how close_ they were, and managed to relax a bit. Not fully, as his body was still reminding him that his lover was buried in him and should be doing something about it, but some.

 Sherlock sighed deeply.  "Yes, good."

 "Anything," he said softly.

 "I... you feel so good, but at the same time it's just... close, and good."  He mumbled something.

 "Hm? Didn't catch the last bit."

 He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms tighter around John.  "Clean.  It feels clean."

 "Clean?"

 He nodded against his skin.

 John had nothing to add.

 "Clean like," he continued, sensing the lack of understanding, "Like Good.  And nice."

 "Yes, Sherlock. It is nice."

 That wasn't it either, but he didn't want to babble so he simply kissed John's scalp and relaxed some more.

 John managed to stay still and quiet for another five minutes. He wasn't lying. It was nice. It was... he couldn't think of how to describe it. It was close. He liked how close it was. But unlike Sherlock, he could only go a few minutes before that need for movement overpowered those nice feelings.

 Sherlock was still.

 John shifted slightly to get more comfortable. It was a bad idea because he was reminded very strongly of how much he wanted Sherlock to move.

 Sherlock made a slight choking noise but didn't move.

 "How...how long has it been?"

 "Twenty minutes."

 "That's almost an hour."

 Sherlock chuckled softly.

 "We can do it again. So you could move now. And we could do it more later," he suggested.

 "Mm-mm."

 "Why not?"

 "Because I said so," he said, lowering his voice a little because John liked that.

 That voice did not dull the urge to make Sherlock move. "But you like giving me what I want."

 Sherlock ignored him.

 "Right? Don't you?"

 He hummed noncommittally.

 "Sherlock," he whined.

 "No," he said simply.  He closed his eyes.

 "Twenty minutes is a long time."

 "Not long enough," he said, keeping the low voice.  "Not nearly long enough to be inside you."

 "You'll still be inside me. Just moving."

 "And then I'd make you come and it would be over."

 "For a few hours."

 "Hm?"

 "Just for a few hours. A couple hours. An hour. We can do it again."

 "Too long."

 John gave up and let his head fall back to the bed.

 Sherlock kissed what he could reach, reassuringly.  "Soon enough."

 "Not soon enough," he grumbled.

 Sherlock sighed, some of the good feelings leaving.

 "No, don't be upset." He attempted to turn his head towards Sherlock, but he couldn't from this angle.

 He moved a little.  "I don't want this if you're unhappy.  It defeats the purpose of being close."

 He took Sherlock's hand. "I like being close. I promise."

 "I know that."  He picked up the hand and kissed it.  "But if this has lost its novelty to you, twenty minutes could be close enough to an hour."  He moved a little again.

 It was...very hard to focus when Sherlock moved. "No, it's fine," he said, a large part of his brain rebelling to scream no, it wasn't fine, to let Sherlock _move_ , dammit, but John ignored it. "Did this for you. I like feeling you all around me. Longer is fine."

 Close and able to feel John's inner conflict, Sherlock pressed in minutely more and then rolled them over so that John was face down and Sherlock was on top.  He held him tightly that way for fifteen seconds, and then he slid nearly all the way out and back in.

 After waiting so long with no motion, that single thrust was overwhelming. A loud groan sped past his lips, and John clutched at the blankets, hard. He wanted to stop Sherlock, because this wasn't what Sherlock wanted, but he wasn't sure if he could now that Sherlock had moved.

 "Oh my g-" Sherlock groaned, stopping and dropping his head in the space between John's shoulder blades, breathing hard.  "Okay.  Unanticipated side effects."

 "Mhm," John managed, voice tight.

 He waited for a bit until his breathing calmed down a little.  "Okay.  Again?"

 "Yes."

 Almost afraid, Sherlock did it again.

 How a single thrust could make him see stars, John couldn't explain. He sucked in a sharp breath, arching back, and yes, this, Sherlock was still close but there was still movement and _this_ , this was good. Panting heavily, just on the right side of being in pain, Sherlock pulled out almost completely and pushed in harder.

 "Ah, God, Sherlock," John choked. "Fuck, please, please."

 He shuddered and did it again, harder, and then again until a fast rhythm was established.  His head was spinning, and it was almost too much, but John was falling apart beneath him and _damn_ did Sherlock like his back and also those noises.

 Every small brush felt like fireworks. Just, huge and powerful and amazing, and John couldn't get enough of it. He wanted more of Sherlock, faster and harder but he honestly wasn't sure if his body could handle faster and harder, or if it would just shut down from the intensity. John wasn't actually aware of anything he was saying at this point, the words ranging from "please" to "love" to "fuck."

They weren't going to last, not like this.  Sherlock angled himself a different way to try to take John with him, although from the sound of it John wasn't much more composed than Sherlock at the moment.  "Stunning," he managed when John gave a particularly gorgeous twist.  "You're."

 Oh _God_ when he brushed right there... He tried to say something back but all that came out was some breathless combination of a moan and a yelp, and he gave up on the idea of using words.

 "Come," Sherlock ordered him in what he hoped was a low voice.

 And that voice wasn't fair, not when he was already like this, and so John did, spilling over the bed beneath him with a loud shout.

 Sherlock accompanied him immediately, managing a few more precisely-aimed thrusts to John's prostate but unable to keep his head up.  Finally, he let his body fall on top of John, face in the crook of his neck, not pulling out because things were simply too sensitive.

 John managed to find the energy to turn his head to the side so he could breathe, but that was about it.

 Sherlock shifted his head over there and kissed him. 

 "Hi," he breathed.

 He groaned in response.

 "Was it long enough?" he asked, voice barely there.

 "It wasn't the plan but I wouldn't have traded what followed for another forty minutes."  He kissed him again, more slowly.

 John hummed, eyes closing. "Glad."

 "I love you," he said softly.

 "Love you."

 Sherlock felt able to pull out so he did, but he remained lying on John.  He closed his eyes as well.

 John lifted a hand. It was heavy. All of him felt heavy. He reached for Sherlock blindly.

 Sherlock took the hand firmly.

 John gave a small, happy hum at that.

 Sherlock brought the hand to his lips and kissed it softly, as usual toeing the line between tender and awed.

 "Kiss." He attempted to turn his head to find Sherlock.

 He smiled and got off John, laying down beside him and then pulling him all the way in.  He kissed him, hard.

 Better. John kissed him back, scooting in as close as he could manage.

 Sherlock threaded their legs together, got his arms around him, pressed their chests and hips together.

 This. Sherlock was wrapped all around him. "Yes," he said, nuzzling into Sherlock's neck.

 Sherlock buried his face in John's hair and curled up around him.

 "Didn't mean to make you stop."

 "It doesn't matter.  I'll never have enough of you no matter what we do."  He kissed the top of John's head, where Sherlock's lips rested, at the moment.

 "Almost sad."

 "Hm?"

 "That you can't have enough."

 Sherlock shrugged, nuzzling.   "It's not a fault in our relationship.  It's because I can never sound the depths of you."

 John tilted his head back to kiss Sherlock. He missed his lips, catching his jaw instead, but close enough.

 "How do you do it?" Sherlock asked, curious now.  With a heave, he rolled himself up and then on top of John.  "How are you always different without changing at all?"

 "Don't know what you mean," he said, looking up at him.

 "You're..." he stumbled for the words, "you're always beautiful, always act and look the same, but every time I kiss you it's a little different."  He leaned down and kissed him.  "Every time."  He kissed him again, and it was different, just a little, but he could remember every kiss from John and it was definitely not the same as any that had come before it.  "I don't understand," he said, pulling back and gazing down at John.

 "I don't either," he said, forcing his arm up so he could trace his fingers along Sherlock's cheek. He smiled at him.

 He kissed him again.  "And every time you smile, it's different."  He closed his eyes and turned his face into John's palm.  "And every time you touch me."

 "As long as it's always good."

 "It is.  Always.  It's why I'll never have enough."  He nuzzled the palm.

 "Come back by me," he insisted.

 "I'm not done adoring you yet," he protested.

 "Adore me from down here."

 A soft laugh escaped him and he lowered back onto John and adored him from there.   He took his hand, held it up, pulled apart his fingers and bent them and moved them.

 "What are you doing?"

 "Adoring you from down here."

 John smiled. "Oh. Carry on."

 Sherlock rolled his eyes but smiled too.  He kissed each fingertip, then turned his head to kiss John's cheek.  "Even your hands."

 "Mm. Keep adoring me, please."

 Sherlock twisted a bit and kissed John's jaw.  "Your stubble."

 "More," he insisted, smiling.

 He kissed John's ear.  "Your ears."

 His smile widened. "That all?"

 He scooted down and kissed John's Adam's Apple.  "Your throat."

 John hummed.

 He kissed the hollow under John's throat.  "This."

 "Wasn't very specific."

 "Don't know what it's called," he admitted.  He kissed John's chest.  "Sternum."

 This was looking like a situation where Sherlock was going to completely shower him in kisses. John was pleased.  Sherlock did, until he'd kissed nearly every inch of John's body, named it, said he loved it.  "All of you," he concluded, laying himself down squarely on front of John, lining their bodies up.  "I don't understand any of it, you, at all.  And I love it."  He kissed John's lips tenderly.  "How you can be unpredictable and reliable at the same time."

 John wrapped his arms around Sherlock to keep him close. His whole body felt like it was tingling from Sherlock's lips. He leaned in, capturing Sherlock's lips and kissing him slowly.

 Sherlock kissed back, sweet and slow, and said nothing else.

 "I never want to stop kissing you."

 "Then don't."

He kissed him, over and over, wanting nothing else. Nothing else but lying with Sherlock, kissing him and holding him and being near him.  Sherlock was overwhelmed.  He was used to adoring John, and he knew John loved him, but it wasn't often that he felt like he was drowning in it.  "Better," he said, breathless, between kisses.  "This is better than if I'd stayed for an hour."

 "You," he said, kissing along Sherlock's jaw, peppering several kisses to his cheeks, making his way back to lips again, "are the most gorgeous, amazing, perfect man. Mine. My perfect man."

 He couldn't keep doing it.  He let all his weight fall on top of John and curled up on and around him.

 He couldn't reach Sherlock's lips anymore so he kissed wherever he could reach. "Wasn't kidding about not wanting to stop."

 He didn't respond, lying there happy and stunned and dazed and emotional.

 He turned Sherlock's head toward him again, seeking his lips. "Do you understand how much I need you?" He didn't want to stop. Didn't want to separate from him. Didn't want to sleep because sleeping meant not getting to look at him.

 He made a noise that was definitely not a whimper.

 John kissed his temple firmly. Sherlock simply lay there, limp and overloaded.

 "Too much?" John asked, pulling back.

Sherlock caught his hand and kept it.  John just laid there and gazed at him.  Sherlock gazed back.  "Sleep," he said, squeezing Sherlock's hand.

 Sherlock closed his eyes obediently.

 John continued to watch him, smiling.

 It had been an intense evening, and Sherlock, warm and loved and safe, was already drifting.

 John moved back in, no longer kissing, just getting comfortable around Sherlock as Sherlock dropped off.  He watched him for a while, happy. So happy. Happy because of this man. Eventually, his eyes grew heavy too. He curled up closer and fell asleep to the sound of Sherlock breathing.


End file.
